no thorns go as deep as roses (love is more cruel than lust)
by boopwritings
Summary: there is a florist; all dark eyeliner and black boots and tribal tattoos and yet she touches flowers with such a delicacy clarke feels like she should look away. or, lexa is a bit obssesed with flowers, books and clarke while clarke is too intense about her art, dancing and love for lexa
1. Chapter 1

_one:_  
 _but a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams_  
 _his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream_  
 _-maya angelou, sing_

* * *

it's not her best day.

it's not her day at all, actually.

lexa's head is throbbing, a persistent white noise refusing to let her breathe, her eyelids heavy. when it comes down to it, having a bad day just means having a really bad night prior to it. it was all the nightmares and heavy breathing and tears too stubborn to fight. it's getting better, thought. she's getting better. this is a first bad day in over three months.

but that fact didn't help the snappy mood she was sporting the whole morning. it also didn't help the poor customer who's entrance was signaled by the little bell lexa put above the door.

she takes a deep breath, breathing out the sadness that has an iron grip over her ribs, before putting down her copy of ikarus - the mythical flyer, and leaving the backroom and the warmth of a small, entirely to warn out blue couch that lexa grew to strongly appreciate. (she has this theory that if one was to take every petal from all the flowers in the shop and make a couch from them, it still wouldn't be as soft as the opening gift from lincoln.) when she enters the shop she spots a woman; baby blue blazer, long blond hair, worried look accompanying the frown on her lips.

lexa clears her throat, alerting the girl of her presence. "may I help you?"

the girl jumps nonetheless, and lexa sighs. It wasn't like she didn't try, at least. "uh, yeah." the girl turns to face her and lexa can't help but notice how the blue of her eyes was the blue she never saw before, not even in all of the flower books she read. "i'm looking for a... _birthday_ flower arrangement?"

it's the way girl's face turns into a frown as soon as the word 'birthday' leaves her lips that lets lexa believe she was one of those i-don't-like-you-but-i'm-too-nice-to-admit-it people who buy flowers because they can't think of anything else.

(lexa hopes for people like that on days like this because she can take all of her frustration and anger out on making the prettiest things with worst messages and no one notices because no one cares enough about meaning of flowers as long as they look good enough to show off.)

"okay." lexa says.

she moves from behind the counter, her gaze searching the flowers on display. "tell me about the person they are for."

"well, they are actually for my mother." girl explains, the tone of her voice telling more than her words. "we aren't really close, i guess. she had this dream i would follow her footsteps and become a surgeon since i was little. i ended up going to art school."

lexa nods and moves swiftly around the room. the girl watches, a bit mesmerized. she thinks: there is a florist; all dark eyeliner and black boots and tribal tattoos and yet she touches flowers with such a delicacy it feels like she should look away.

lexa is a picky person, and she is especially picky when it comes to her flowers. they are honest and it's what lexa loves about them the most. (they are also the perfect example of how you need to get to know someone before you can judge them; they can be in all of your favourite colours and yet, they can represent all the shades of betrayal.)

in the end, it's all about the story flowers carry between their petals and lexa was awarded more than once for creating the best stories of all. today she could feel the boxes she spent so much time building inside of herself shattering, the glass boxes around her heart and lungs and every particle of her body, boxes that are supposed to shield her feelings. so when her hands reach for yellow carnations and pink gladiolus and white violets, she doesn't fight it.

"is this okay?'' she trims the edges and puts the bouquet full of soft, pastel colours in simple, elegant white paper before offering it to clarke.

"yes, that's..." lexa's eyes are fixed on girl's face as she takes the arrangement from her with such care it makes lexa think it might actually shatter into million pieces at any moment. she is looking at it closely, her eyes big, as if looking at piece of art. lexa looks away, going back to her spot behind the counter. "that's really pretty.'' the girl finally says. "you have an eye for colour."

"it's my job."

"you are good at it."

lexa clears her throat and says nothing, because yes, maybe she was good at it, but a stranger should not be a judge of that, especially not a stranger who doesn't know a first thing about flowers. however, customer is always right. ''so, you will take it?'' the girl nods and lexa prints out the check. "should I write something on the card?"

it takes few seconds, but then "yes. 'with love, clarke' should do."

lexa misspells the name twice, and clarke says it's okay, that it happens in starbucks all the time. lexa raises her eyebrow, but says nothing.

(as lexa predicted, question about what flowers mean didn't come.)

* * *

sometimes lexa wonders if there's ikarus in all of us. we all desperately want something, and when we finally get it we want more and more and more and it's never enough. or, maybe, as william blake said in his _proverbs of hell_ : 'you never know what is enough, until you know what is more than enough'. she thinks that maybe costia was her wings and love was her sun. she got burned, she fell, she lost her wings, she never tried to fly again.

* * *

the fucking wind chime lets out that annoying sound that reminds lexa of glitter and shiny things and happiness, and she could swear it was going to make her head explode one day. "we are closed!" she yells from her couch, her soft, warm, blue couch and wonders how can someone not see 'CLOSED' sign on the door. People are annoying and dumb. lexa doesn't like them.

"you know you can't just close your store when you feel sorry for yourself, right?"

lexa groans as soon as she recognizes the voice, trying to hide deeper in her blanket. "go away anya."

"can't do that. brought you food."

"make it go away with you."

"you gotta eat."

"whether i eat or not is none of your business."

"it is, actually. when you don't eat you turn into whiny, annoying five-year old and at the end of the day it's gonna be me who will have to deal with that."

lexa considers this for a moment or two and sighs in defeat. "i hate you." she sits up and puts her legs in front of her as far as they can go, stretching them. more than few joints pop.

anya smiles. "bad night?"

lexa mumbles something around her mouthful of food, and okay. maybe she is hungry. she is also grumpy and knowing look anya sends her way does nothing but annoys her further. "getting me my favourite dish, _from other side of town_ , does not prove any point you might have."

anya rolls her eyes. "a simple 'thank you' would do, you know."

"i don't know what that means."

"when did you become such a brat?"

"i learned from the best."

"no arguing there." anya agrees with a slight shrug of shoulders and lexa tries to imprint the moment to her memory; they rarely agree on anything. lexa watches as she walks around the small backroom lexa uses as more than just a storage; along with flowers, there were also numerous piles of books scattered all over the floor, few framed pictures decorating the shelves, and when anya lets out a sudden breath of lough, lexa knows she is looking at the disney action figures that lexa somehow just keeps on buying. she doesn't comment on it.

soon, she's done with her food and anya's done with her little tour. this time she sits across from lexa, taking out her pack and lighter (it has bugs bunny printed on it and now lexa knows why anya didn't mock her). she lights her cigarette right then and there and lexa frowns.

"you can't smoke in here."

anya ignores her. "indra wants us on dinner this sunday."

"i know." she wonders if anya smokes from the same reason she wishes cigarette smoke doesn't make her want to vomit; it was a passive, subtle way of trying to speed up death.

"don't forget about it."

"i won't."

"good."

there are few things she likes about anya, but what she likes the most is how anya never forces her to make unnecessary promises, never forces her to use more words then she feels comfortable with. it's also the fact she cares, lexa doesn't have many people in her life who do. anya would never admit that but lexa knows because it's monday and anya's excuse to visit her is to remind her of dinner on sunday.

"gustus has been talking about your cover shot for past three days. its annoying. and creepy."

that made the corner of lexa's lips twitch. gustus was the one who thought her everything she knows about the flowers, and when daily garden contacted her last week and offered her to make arrangement for their cover page, she knew she had no one but him to thank too.

"is that jealousy i sense?"

"you wish, rocky."

lexa rolls her eyes.

rocky was a rather stupid (in lexa's opinion) nickname anya gave her in what seemed to be a lifetime ago and it was all because, according to anya, she looks like a raccoon ready to fight whoever looks her way with all the black eyeliner she applies. raccoon rocky.

"i thought we were done with that nickname."

"oh, we will _never_ be done with that nickname."

lexa doesn't expect anything else.

"anyway, i gotta go. some of us actually have better things to do than cry." and she is out of the door as suddenly as she entered them.

* * *

when she gets home, she is exhausted. she lives in small apartment, across the hall from anya's. it's the apartment indra helped her get and pay for until her business became steady. she doesn't need help anymore.

one day lincoln helped her paint the walls. it wasn't much of work, really. the decision to paint small living room in soft colour of beige is momentary; one of the walls, the one they put old, rusty, entirely too big work table lincoln found in trash and renovated (just painted in white, actually) next to is decorated with long, lilac stripes - top to bottom.

little kitchen that's connected to living room through half window/half bar is, along with bathroom, covered in tiles. they never bother with that.

her bedroom is white, walls are decorated with large pictures of simple, pencil-drawn and too detailed flowers with latin names. her sheets are green.

she throws her bag alongside of the couch and slumps down on it, the pressure against her back knocking out all the air she had left.

she thinks about crying and about boxes inside of her, she thinks about flowers and how they need water to grow.

she thinks back to times when she was in orphanage, about how she would sneak into the small library that had only few books appropriate for her age and how she would have to climb the bookshelves to get something that wasn't a picturebook.

she thinks about the chinese philosophy book she once stumbled upon and she thinks about words of chuang tzu: the fish trap exists because of the fish. once you've gotten the fish you can forget the trap. the rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit. once you've gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. words exist because of meaning. once you've gotten the meaning, you can forget the words.

she thinks about all the words kids used to shout at her and she thinks about their meaning.

she's grown enough to understand that there is no solid meaning behind them. they were kids, they were left alone, they were angry.

she wonders when she'll be able to forget them.

the sleep doesn't come easily and when it does, its dreamless.

* * *

tomorrow, when short, furious looking blonde storms into her little shop lexa will think that maybe meaning of flowers could kill her sooner than cigarette smoke.

(she will also think about how thundering of her heart must be similar to ikarus' when he got his wings)

* * *

AN - good job on making it all the way to the end. tell me what you think! also, if you want more content or ask some questions, you can find me on tumblr as badasskru c:


	2. Chapter 2

_two:_  
 _we wear the mask that grins and lies,_  
 _it hides our cheeks and shades our eyes_  
 _-paul laurence dunbar, we wear the mask_

* * *

when she opened her shop that morning, she did not expect this:

lexa's body feels light, lighter than yesterday. she's not sure why; her sleep is restless and dreams never come. with morning didn't come peace; weather is ruthless and lexa's ears are pierced with sound of thunder, she's positive no one will visit her shop today.

she stays anyway because the smell of flowers and sight of rain makes it easier to breathe.

it's exactly 13:07 when lexa's sees her for second time: fierce blue eyes, jaw clenched shut, angry frown decorating her face.

"you." clarke says and lexa takes a step back from a rose she was trimming.

there's a faint moment in which clarke taps at her jacket, searching for something, and lexa thinks she might pull out a knife and put it under her throat.

she takes out a note instead and reads: "you disappointed me."

clarke takes another step closer to lexa and then another one and then one more until lexa has no other choice but to keep going back. clarke continues, "your rejection hurts."

one, two, three more steps. "give me a break."

four, five, crash. lexa feels her lower back hit the counter and a faint gasp of surprise forms on her lips, her fingers instantly curling around it's edge so hard she can almost feel her knuckles go white.

clarke is close, lexa can feel the heat of her body. she thinks that storm outside is no match for the one in clarke's eyes.

she says "did it work?"

clarke stands there, their eyes locked, and lexa wonders why is strangers gaze making the hair on her arms rise. finally, clarke shakes her head, taking a step back, getting out of lexa's personal space. her lungs expand with air. "yes."

lexa doesn't do reckless, she thinks everything through no matter how moody she feels. she can't decide if that's a blessing or a curse. however, clarke's confirmation doesn't surprise her. "flowers are honest, clarke. i won't make them lie."

clarkes seems to think about this and lexa uses the moment to go back to her rose. her hands are shaky, but playing with thorns seems like a better idea than facing the unknown.

"why did you put white lilies there too? 'lets take another chance' seems to be pretty contradictory to other flowers you picked." clarke sounds curious above anything else, but lexa can tell she's trying hard to sound pissed off.

she ignores the question. "a 'thank you' would do."

lexa can hear the huff that escapes clarke and this makes the corner of her mouth twitch.

"you are infuriating."

"you don't know me."

"let's grab a coffee."

lexa looks up. "okay."

because indra told her once: be brave, lexa. from all that thinking your head can do nothing but explode.

* * *

and then they are at this coffee shop at the end of the street and clarke's sitting across from her; her eyes are as piercing as ever, and lexa is already done with half of her coffee because this is awkward and she doesn't know what to say and she remembers why she doesn't do reckless.

her fingers are gripping her mug and she's this close to standing up and leaving when "what's your name?" rolls out from clarke's lips.

lexa thinks about people and she thinks about how they always put themselves first. she thinks about all the connections she has with them and how she can count on fingers of one had all the people who are her friends not because they want something from her, but because they care.

she wonders where clarke falls.

"lexa." she says.

clarke is looking at her with curious eyes and lexa feels the boxes inside of her shaking.

"lexa." she repeats. "how do you spell that?"

"with an x." she doesn't say: 'i recently found out that it was originally leksa.' she doesn't say: 'its short from aleksandria, but when i was accepted at orphanage they changed it for simplicity.'

clarke says "i don't know if its common practice of yours to offer to write a card for your customers, or you just wanted to find out what's my name, but im glad we know how to spell each others now."

lexa blushes and clarke smiles.

* * *

its easier after that.

she learns clarke is attending her last year of college and is younger than her by two years, she learns her favourite colour is blue, but not any blue, 'it's the blue that paints the sky just before dark falls', she learns that she likes to dance and that she hates horror movies with burning passion, she learns that clarke drinks her coffee with two sugars and she learns that she likes clarke's loud laugh when she can't help but grimace at that.

in exchange she tells clarke she never got a chance to attend college fully, but she taking classes in history, mythology and literature, with her job its going slow, but she's working her way to diploma nonetheless, she tells clarke she likes green, the one that paints the trees after rain and she tells her horror movies are one of her favourites. clarke laughs at her when she says her favourite animal is dumbo octopus, but when lexa shows her what a dumbo octopus is, her laugh is replaced with wide eyes and numerous questions lexa barely knows how to answer.

when she finds out lexa drinks her coffee without sugar she grimaces and its lexa's turn to laugh.

"how did you become a florist?"

lexa thinks about the question. "i'm not very good with words."

clarke is leaned over the table and both of her elbows are on top of it. "so you let flowers speak for you?"

lexa shrugs.

after clarke doesn't say anything, lexa looks up at her and is met with a curious gaze.

she swallows and asks "how did you decide to become an artist?"

clarke smiles. "i like to draw."

lexa frowns. "i like coffee, but im not a waiter."

"you are also good with words. you speak like my english professor. maybe even like some character from some boring, long, classical book, like anna karenina."

"anna karenina is russian."

clarke ignores her. "not the point."

"perhaps i don't want to tell you yet, clarke."

"that's okay. i'm not expecting you to. i'm just saying you are an awful liar."

"i am most certainly not."

"at least you could have said you are not good at expressing yourself or something."

"see, clarke. that's exactly what i was trying to say. i told you i'm not good with words."

clarke rolls her eyes, but she's smiling and lexa somehow can't help but smile too.

* * *

three hours later, when lexa is on her way back to the shop, she starts to notice other things that don't have anything to do with clarke.

she realizes she's starving, her belly is loud and needy, and she honestly can't remember if it was like this just a minute ago when she was still sitting across the other girl.

she also realizes it's sunny, a bit too sunny for her liking, and she wonders when did storm stop.

she also realizes there's way too many people around her and her gaze instantly finds the floor. she's hit with the world around her and it makes her smile drop, it makes her nervous fingers seek the pockets.

she takes turn to a back alley, away from the crowds.

she thinks about all the people that walked here before her and who still will in the future from the same reasons as her and she thinks about proverbs.

she thinks about how "if you are sick enough, you'll let anyone be the doctor" somehow always stuck with her, even though she never made any real effort to memorize it.

she thinks about how clarke had a chance to be one.

she thinks about how clarke had a chance to fix broken things.

she thinks about how she chose art and decided to make beautiful ones instead.

she thinks about meeting new people and getting to know someone and showing feelings and getting hurt and being honest and all the other stuff she hates and avoids and she smiles anyway because her fidgety fingers keep tapping against the check clarke wrote her number on.

* * *

its already late afternoon when lincoln barges through front door of lexa's shop, all sweat and heard breaths. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i was on my way, but then the tire broke and..." he trails off, looking up at lexa, his mouth slightly open.

"what?" lexa asks, her eyebrow rising.

"you are smiling."

"so?"

"i'm like, an hour late."

lexa rolls her eyes. "do you have my flowers or not, lincoln?"

"yeah, yeah. i also made you little something last week from stuff no one was buying and i didn't feel like throwing away." a pause. "are you sure are okay, commander?"

lexa's lips curve at the nickname lincoln and few others gave her after they formed their little soccer team so they could compete in monthly amateur tournaments local sports community organized. the prize for first three teams was bbq meat and beer. they were last years champions.

"yes. i am fine. go get my flowers, i have to reorganize my display before dark falls."

lincoln looks at her for a second more, but says nothing. soon, all the new arrangements she ordered are inside of her shop and there is a new chair placed at ther display, it looks like its made from multiple branches all tangled up together and lexa instantly falls in love with it. lincoln was always extremely good at guessing people's characters and preferences.

when lincoln starts throwing out old and saggy flowers, lexa takes upon herself to decorate the chair. there is a song stuck in her head and somewhere along the way she starts quietly humming 'i'll be good' by jayems young while trying to tell a story of war and peace on that chair.

all the rustling in the back stops and she doesn't notice until she hears the familiar sound of lincolns doc martens on the floor.

"you met someone."

its not a question and lexa knows the tips of her ears are turning pink.

"go away, lincoln. i will not pay you if you don't do your job."

lexa refuses to look up at him, but the enormous grin forming on his face is impossible to miss from a mile away.

he stays there doing nothing until lexa has no choice but sigh and look up.

his grin turns into a small smile, his eyes honest when he says "i'm happy for you, lexa."

lexa nods her head once and goes back to work.

* * *

later that day when lexa is closing her shop, she thinks about costia and she thinks about how there is not one good thing orphanage thought her except how love is weakness. she thinks about busted lips and bruised ribs, she thinks about hurtful whispers and angry shouts, she thinks about gentle fingerprints, about icy fingers, about ashamed looks.

she thinks about clarke.

she takes out her phone and types: 'thank you for coffee today. it was most peaceful stormy day i ever had. i hope i can return the favour soon. sincerely, lexa woods'

she presses send before box around her heart completely closes.

her hands are shaking a bit and hear heart is furious against her chest and she thinks about how she feels alive for the first time after costia left her.

she thinks about universe and she thinks about stars and she thinks about getting lost in the void of emptiness and enjoying the peacefulness of empty space.

she thinks about stars crashing and explosions and fire and sparks.

that night, she dreams in colour.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N:_ no, i did not forgot about this story, but it was the end of the semester and well, you know the rest. some of you are saying how capital letters exsits for a reason, and by all means, i encourage you to use them if you feel like it, but i won't. call it artistic freedom. anyway, there is a bit of lexa's backstory in this one and i hope you all like it.

xxx

 _three :_

 _the woods are lovely, dark and deep,  
but I have promises to keep,  
and miles to go before I sleep,  
and miles to go before I sleep._

 _-robert frost, stopping by woods on a snowy evening_

 _xxx_

lexa is taller than her for a whole one inch and she never passes up the opportunity to tease her about how short she is; the rolling of her eyes in combination with puffed out cheeks and long rambles along the lines of 'i'm not short, lexa. my height is perfectly acceptable for an american citizen. did you know that average hight..." is probably one of lexa's favourite things in the whole world (most of lexa's favourite things include costia, to be fair).

she never argues back (though she could point out how neither her or costia are really americans, her heritage is not clear, but there are some pointers suggesting she's somewhere from central asia, while costia is one hundred percent italian) because she prefers to just silent costia with a kiss.

today was different thought, it was first day of spring. costia wants to go all the way to the edge of property of 'bumble bee orphan home', a name lexa will never quite understand, that was decorated with a line of cherry trees.

there is not much that lexa can do but agree, she is weak to pleading looks costia mastered and frequently used on her.

if she is being honest, lexa has to admit she would never think of saying no even if there was no pleading looks or puppy eyes or batting eyelashes; costia doesn't want anyone to know about their relationship so the moments they have together are rare and mostly hidden in the darkness of the night.

they agree to meet by the tree number eight after lunch, but lexa is so eager to see her that she doesn't go to the canteen, she goes to the tree right after she finishes her homework.

it's a reasonable distance from their home, and she rarely even sees anyone visiting this part of property if it's not a cherry season; there is much more to do in a small park and playground closer to the house.

she is excited and full of energy and when costia finally comes, she is sitting on one of the lowest branches, the one she is sure can hold them both. costia's eyebrow rises when she catches the sight of her; lexa grins and offers her a hand.

costia climbs up easily and when she moves past her to sit on the other side, she delivers a kiss at the corner of lexa's lips and its enough to make the tips of her ears turn pink.

soon costia falls in one of her long rambles about biology and dna and golden ratio and all the wonders of coding and lexa is kind of completely fascinated with the way her eyes get this glossy look. lexa can imagine there is a whole different world behind her eyelids. the way her hands move when she talks makes lexa believe they are telling a story on their own and the way her curls are so shiny in the sun makes it impossible for her to look away and she is so in love she doesn't even mind all these rambles even though she doesn't like biology (especially not the boring, plant part).

so it takes a few seconds for both of them to realize someone is standing underneath them and shouting, but then "hey dykes!" reaches lexa's ears.

she can pinpoint the exact moment costia becomes aware of them because her hands stop moving and her smile falls and the colour of her face loses at least two shades.

"i mean, kinda expected for alexandria here, she was always a freak anyway." the boy, pike, says. "but you, costia? such a pretty face. i would have never guessed."

at the mention of costia's name lexa's blood runs cold. pike and his little gang teased her since she first came here, whether it was about her glasses or her looks or the way she spoke, she mostly just hid away somewhere with her book. but the thought of them hurting costia...she couldn't bear it.

"i'm not, i don't...i like boys." costia says, her nails digging deep into the tree.

lexa slowly reverts her gaze back to her, mouth agape, but costia refuses to look back at her like it could burn her.

"yeah, didn't even think that thing up there could actually get someone to like her. better come down here before you catch something." the two boys by his side whose names lexa never bothered to remember laugh.

costia takes a few shallow breaths and clears her throat before jumping down. pike motions with his hand for her to come closer and she does.

lexa feels scared.

she realizes she doesn't feel scared for costia, but rather because of her. she remembers the beating of her heart two weeks ago when they were under the blanket in costia's room and she told lexa she loved her for the first time. she remembers pike's words when he saw her sitting on the swing by herself: 'what's up weirdo? finally realized no one can love a mistake like you?'

he puts his hand around costia's shoulder and hugs her tight to his side. lexa thinks she might actually get sick.

"something wrong up there? did you actually think costia here was going to join you in your sick little games?"

lexa feels a little bit dizzy and pike's words only barely register. costia is still avoiding her gaze and her mind is suddenly filled with the words costia never told her in the brightness of the day. soft whispers of 'i love you' suddenly seem so foreign in her brain.

it all happens fast; someone is tugging on her leg and then she's flying, and she thinks how it feels strange. just few minutes ago she was flying too and it was costia who gave her the wings. she remembers the saying: those who fly high, crash down low. costia is now tucked under the arm of a boy who she knows bullied lexa since before costia even knew her, and lexa doesn't think her wings are there anymore. the reality crashes with her in the form of pain in her left ankle, shortly followed with the pain in the left side of her body. she clenches her teeth and feels the roughness of sand between her lips. when she opens her eyes, she sees pike laughing and a fist going straight to her face.

she prepares for impact, but it never comes. instead her vision blurs again and suddenly she's on her feet and there's a fist around her collar, keeping her up straight. the boy pushes her backwards until her back collides with the trunk of a tree and a soft gasp leaves her lips.

costia is now standing alone, her arms crossed around her chest and her gaze not leaving the ground.

there is something in lexa that wants to come out so badly, to shout at costia, to ask her where is all of her love now.

she looks at pike instead, his face now only few inches from her, full of resentment.

"to even think you thought someone would like you is hurting my brain." he pushes her shoulder hard against the tree and she feels small and betrayed and disappointed and does nothing to defend herself. "you are fucking disgusting." she closes her eyes just before his fist collides with her jaw and he doesn't even have to say how she deserves the pain because the thought forms in her brain on its own. "fucking dyke." this time he aims for her chest. air leaves her body so suddenly she falls to the floor, gasping.

she is not sure what happens next, but she recognises titus' bold head pushing the boys away and anya's voice shouting and costia's silent crying.

'what's up weirdo? finally realized no one can love a mistake like you?'

she feels weak, and it's not just physically. she knows love is what got her here in the first place, and she knows she is the only one to blame.

tomorrow, when she is packing all of her books and clothes and notebooks because anya told her she is now her legal guardian and they are moving in with someone named indra, she thinks about putting her heart in one of those boxes too. it's dark and cold inside, but it's also safe and no one can hurt her again.

xxx

lexa likes to think she became very good at blocking her thoughts, and she did, really. but today is sunday and her birthday is tomorrow and its officially going to be five years since she left the orphanage.

she texts clarke since their coffee date, for the lack of better word, non-stop. it's lighthearted and easy and she even somehow manages to deal with the fact her favourite superhero is batman after 'clarke, if you are going to pick your favourite superhero, at least pick someone with actual superpowers.' didn't work.

the way she gets used to clarke and her texts being constant in her day, the way she checks her phone every two minutes even though she knows clarke didn't respond and wouldn't respond for a while because she is in some class made her feel overwhelmed three days in.

on friday, she stops responding. thoughts of costia and love and feelings wouldn't leave her alone, and the little scar on her left ankle is a constant reminder what happens when she stops being careful.

she thinks of the words david levinath wrote: 'it was a mistake, you said. but the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.'

so when clarke texts her after two days of silence with 'did i do something wrong?' lexa closes the text without reading it and shuts her phone.

if there is something she knew for sure, it's that love is weakness, and she could not be weak again.

so when she enters indra's house she's grumpy and irritated and just wants to go back home and sleep.

it's 11:57 a. m. and lunch is only scheduled for 2, so she is a bit surprised to find anya in the living room, her sock covered feet crossed on a coffee table and head leaned over the headrest of the couch, her eyes closed.

she slumps down on a sofa next to her without saying a word, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

the whole house smells like stirred vegetables and baked meat and lexa can hear the roaring sound her stomach makes.

they sit there in silence for a while and lexa wonders if she'll ever be able to make her mind completely silent.

'it's your birthday tomorrow.' anya says matter of factly and lexa rolls her eyes despite them being closed.

'five years since-' she continues, but lexa's firm '-anya.' stops her.

lexa can hear the frustrated sigh that leaves anya's lips.

'it's been five years, lexa.' anya's voice is so cold it makes the hair on lexa's arm stand. 'it's been five years since you stopped being happy and i'll be damned if i let those fuckers who screwed you over make it ten.' she stands up and for a second lexa thinks she might hit something, but she doesn't. 'and the worst part is,' she walks over to her '-i can't do anything to stop it.'

she looks at lexa like she expects her to say something and when she doesn't, she slumps back down on the couch, her head in her hands. 'i don't get it. it seems so stupid to let people who mean nothing in your life affect you so deeply, but you don't let poeple who mean something affect you at all. and i know you are not stupid and i just don't get it.'

and lexa remembers when she was young and small and reading was not something she enjoyed doing. she remembers how she sneaked out of the canteen when particularly nasty food fight took place that she had no attention of joining. she remembers seeing anya for the first time - in the library, sorting books back to their place, her glasses on tip of her nose, her face looking as angry as ever. she remembers anya reading her the words a. a. milne wrote: 'sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.'

and she knows.

the realization dawns on her like a bucket of cold water and she feels it in ever molecule of her body. it's a feeling, more then anything else, and if she was forced to explain what happened in that moment to anyone else, she couldn't.

but she knows.

she knows that five years is more than enough time to heal, but she aslo knows time is not doing the healing, it's herself. she knows no one can really help her open the boxes she hid all those parts of herself five years ago, but she knows they can hold her hand and help her do so. she knows anya is right and she knows maybe it's time to push all the memories that are holding her back aside.

it's time to listen george orwell and his words 'people from past define our future. but people from the present write the past.'

'you are right.' she says finally.

anya looks at her doubtfully, sighs, but leans back again, not saying anything.

lexa doesn't blame her for not trusting her words, but the rushed flow of blood thorough her veins makes her trust herself.

anya is right.

she takes her phone from the pocket and opens her chat with clarke.

'i apologize, it was a rough few days. maybe i can make it up to you with lunch tomorrow? -leksa'

when she presses send, she knows she did the right thing.

when two o'clock comes, she greets it with a smile on her face and anya's curious eyes on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

four:  
i don't care very much.  
what don't i care about? i don't know: i don't care very much.  
-fernando pessoa, i don't care

* * *

it's weird, she thinks, how she went from hating plants to making flowers her career.

she isn't sure if it was some weird coping thing like she is sure some psychiatrists might suggest, but she doesn't really care.

the way she got into it came naturally and no one questioned it.

when anya helped her pack her things five years ago, a whole one bag of clothes and a box full of books, she was in a state that she was sure was worrying. she didn't think that in a physical way, though a busted lip and a bruise over her ribs might have said otherwise, but the state she was in mentally.

now, she isn't sure how to describe it, but maybe numb would be her safest bet. it was a constant hurt and pain and anger that no one would recognize because she made sure not to show it. she didn't show any feelings at all.

she just finished highschool and she didn't even think about going to college. it just wasn't for kids like her. she had no money to pay for it. her biggest worry was how to keep a roof over her head once she turned eighteen and was thrown out of home.

that worry disappeared almost completely when she entered indra's three-story house with a garden so big and colourful she was stunned for a few moments.

indra was, well, she was indra. lexa had never met anyone like her before. she had her own business, a lawyer company that specified in war crime and later expanded to a safe place for all the woman who didn't have enough money to pay a lawyer, but still wanted to sue their abusive husband or wife. that part was run by anya. she didn't have fixed price for her services, she took whatever they could pay her. whenever lexa asked how much was that, anya would smile and say more than enough.

much like her job would suggest, indra was well composed, her posture always straight, her vocabulary enormous, her emotions in check.

she was a bit intimidated by her when she met her for the first time, but when she brought her a cup of hot tea at two in the morning on the first night of lexa's stay there, after she probably heard her cry, she learned that indra doesn't talk about her feelings, but puts them in small gestures.

just like anya, indra never pushed her to talk. she was there, a solid rock lexa could lean on if she ever felt like slipping away, but she kept her distance.

when she first got into the house, she didn't have much to do.

she didn't even know what to do.

indra and anya were away for most of the day, leaving her alone to rest and heal her bruises, and there was just so many times her worn out books could take re-reading before they fell apart.

one day around five in the afternoon, lexa was awoken from her nap by a loud closing of the door. she was startled and alarmed immediately because normally no one would come home before eight. she stood up and walked to the window, peeking outside.

there was a man, all muscles and dark clothes, big enough to stomp on lexa with his foot, his face decorated with dark beard and black eyeliner.

he was searching for something in his pockets and when he didn't find it, he cursed in a language lexa did not recognize.

seconds later, there was a ring on the door.

lexa took out a phone anya gave her and dialed indra immediately, not sure what to do.

later she would find out his name is gustus, he is a gardener, and he is going to show her how to tell stories in a way she didn't know is possible.

* * *

lexa is sitting on a bench in a park she agreed to meet with clarke, her leg nervously shaking, a bouquet of purple hyacinths held together with some ivy instead of usual decorating paper.

she is fifteen minutes early, but that doesn't stop her from checking her watch every few seconds.

the last time she could remember being this nervous was at the opening of her shop.

she spots clarke before clarke spots her and she stands up, trying to look as little awkward as possible.

does she start walking towards her? does she wait? does she hug her when they meet?

lexa isn't good with this kind of situations. she never knows what to do.

all her worries disappear when clarke is close enough to greet her, a booming smile on her face that lexa can't help but match.

'hi.' clarke says and lexa feels sudden rush of blood pumping through her body. 'sorry that i kept you waiting.'

'no, no. i was early anyway.' she stands there in front of clarke for few seconds, not doing anything, before she remembers her gift.

'oh. this is for you.'

clarke looks down at the bouquet, her eyes sparkling. she takes it carefully like the first time they met, bringing it close to her nose. 'will you tell me what they mean?'

'no.'

clarke looks like she is taken by surprise with lexa's answer and seconds later frown forms on her face.

'but i don't even know what they are called.' she protests and lexa shrugs her shoulders, a mischievous smile on her face.

* * *

'so,' clarke starts once she swallows her bite. their lunch somehow turned into eating hot dogs and sweet corn by the lake in the park, occasionally throwing some bread crumbs to

the ducks to keep them on a safe distance. lexa is a frequent youtube user. she knows what duck are capable of. '-you disappeared for like, three days.' it's more of a statement than a question, but clarke's eyes are big and curious.

lexa knew this would come up. she knew, and yet she didn't have an answer ready. it was just like stephen king said in one of his novels: the most important things are the hardest to say because words diminish them.

'i, uh-' she clears her throat nervously, remembering what anya told her. she won't let them make it ten years. she won't. 'when we first met, you asked me how to spell my name and i said with an x.' her gaze is locked on a duck in front of her, but she knows clarke is watching her. she can feel it. 'that's not completely true. i was raised in an orphanage. when i was admitted there, my name was aleksandria. they changed it to lexa for simplicity.' she says in short, clear sentences. she never really talked about her time in there with anyone but anya, and the conversation made her nervous. 'and today is officially five years from when i got out. the day i was leaving wasn't really...the pretiest, i guess, so last few days i got a bit side tracked.' the tips of her fingers are tapping hurriedly along her hot dog, her breathing uneven.

'i like it.' clarke says after few moments and lexa looks her way. 'aleksandria. leksa. it suits you.' she looks back to the pond and continues to eat her hot dog, a bit of ketchup at the corner of her lips.

a slow chuckle bubbles inside of lexa and she feels free.

she thinks about secrets and she thinks about keeping them. she thinks about how if you want to keep a secret, you should also hide it from yourself. so she did that. she hid away her feelings, her past, the little pieces of her heart and locked it away for five years.

she thinks about how little secrets turn into this big, dark places that no one is allowed to visit.

then someone (someone a lot like clarke) peeks inside like it's the most natural thing to do and you suddenly can't even remember why did you try so hard to not let anyone in.

after all, all the monsters and darkness are there just because you locked them inside and won't let them free.

clarke didn't look at her weirdly or ask why wasn't she adopted or why nobody liked her.

no.

ckarke liked her name.

in the same novel stephen king wrote something along the lines: i think that's the worst thing. when a secret remains locked not because it wasn't told, but because no one understood.

lexa feels boxes inside of her breaking. clarke is diamond going against her walls made of glass and she has no chance of survival.

* * *

an hour and one fight about best super power later, sky opens. out of nowhere. it isn't really unusual for a spring in new york city, but still. now they are running towards the exit of a park where clarke's friend, octavia, is waiting for them in a car. lexa barley locates the knob.

clarke sits in front of her, her hair wet as much as her clothes, her breathing hard. 'thank you.' she says to the person sitting in front of the wheel, trying to get the water out of her eyes.

'shit.' the person, octavia, says. 'i knew i should have stayed home and watch re-run of how to get away with murder. i can't see.'

'my shop is two blocks away, if you'd like to stay there until the weather calms down.' lexa says, her voice quiet, but strong.

octavia turns around like she only now realized there is someone sitting at the back of the car. 'nice, griffin.' she turns to her friend. 'even completely wet she's still hot.'

lexa blushes, clarke hits octavia's arm with a quiet 'be nice' and octavia asks her for directions.

the ride over lasts way longer than it should have, and lexa learns that octavia and clarke know each other since high school and live together, along with reven, their third musketeer. octavia is specifying in martial arts so she can hopefully open her own business one day and reven is studying, in octavia's words, 'some space stuff that no one understands'. lexa listens carefully, not wanting to miss any details about clarke's life.

when they finally reach their destination, octavia parks her car just in front of the door. they let lexa enter first, all three of them under some umbrella octavia found under her seat.

as soon as they enter the shop lincoln closes a comic book he was reading so quickly that lexa rolls her eyes. 'you are acting like a teenager who's reading playboy.'

'i was just...you brought company?' he sounds confused and stunned at the same time and lexa hopes clarke won't read too much into it.

she takes off her wet jacket and introduces them. 'lincoln, clarke and octavia. clarke and octavia, lincoln. he usually delivers my flowers, but he offered to stay in shop today.'

lexa says carefully, not wanting to give away too much.

'because it's her birthday.' lincoln offers cheerfully with a smile on his face and lexa is planning his murder. if look on his face is any indication, he can tell.

'what?' clarke asks at the same time that octavia says her congratulations.

'thank you.' she says to octavia who is now offering her hand to lincoln. he blushes. he actually blushes and lexa shakes her head.

'i'm going to the backroom to change.' she informs, looking at clarke. 'i'm sure i have some extra clothes if you want to change too.'

clarke nods, still looking at her curiously, and  
follows.

lexa tries to open a cupboard where her back pack and a bag are located. she likes to have some spare clothes always ready if they decide to have a sudden practice or, well, for situations like this. she manages to knock down two piles of books in process.

there are two pairs of sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, a star wars t-shirt lexa enjoys sleeping in and one hoodie with tribal logo on it.

when lexa looks up clarke is looking at her disney figures on the shelf. she clears her throat. clarke turns to her with a smile on her face. 'cute.'

lexa doesn't say anything, but offers clarke a hoodie and sweatpants. 'that door leads to the bathroom, if you'd like change there.'

clarke takes the clothes with a quiet thank you before going to the bathroom.

once she hears the click of the door, she lets out a deep breath.

she decides to change too while clarke is away. just as she was pulling her shirt down, she hears clarke's voice. 'that's beautiful.'

she turn around and looks down at herself. 'oh. yeah, i mean, star wars is great, but it's just a logo.' she says, confused.

clarke takes a step forward. 'no, no. i meant the tattoo on your back. and the one on your shoulder. it matches the sign on this hoodie.' lexa thinks clarke might reach out and touch her skin where the t-shirt ends and her tattoo is still visible, but she stops herself. 'oh.' she says again, the tips of her ears turning pink. 'um, it's just something lincoln, i and our other friend came up with. it's uh, it's nothing.'

'did you design it?' clarke asks in a way that makes lexa feel like she did something out of this world.

'the one on my back, yes. the one on my shoulder is designed by lincoln. i have one more over my ribs that anya did.'

clarke looks at her like she told her all the secrets of the universe.

she clears her throat. 'would you like something to drink?'

clarke shakes her head and sits on the couch. her couch. the same couch she was reading ikarus on when clarke first entered her shop.

'oh wow.' she says, looking up at lexa. 'what's inside of this? clouds?'

lexa chuckles. 'they might as well be.' she sits on the armchair next to the couch, playing with her fingers.

'why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?'

'i never celebrate them. and they don't remind me of anything nice, so.' she shrugs her shoulders.

after few moments of silence she looks up to find clarke's blue eyes watching her. she shifts under her gaze.

'we should change that.'

'what?'

'we should change that. i'm sure octavia has a bottle or two in her car. let's make some happy memories.'

lexa doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, and she decides it doesn't matter, because both would be out of happiness.

* * *

lexa is on her third drink when she remembers the words: 'it's so hard to forget the pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. we have no scars to show for happiness. we learn so little from peace.' that chuck palahniuk wrote in his diary.

she thinks about little scar on her ankle and she thinks about people in front of her.

she decides that that scar can't even compare to the sound of clarke's laugh, lincoln's shiny eyes looking at octavia and the story about how clarke ended up in detention after she painted over every table in their class to make them more colourful that octavia tells.

she's now sitting on the couch next to clarke and their knees tend to bump against each other from time to time and lexa is hyper aware of every time they do. lincoln is sharing the armchair with octavia who's basically sitting in his lap, but he doesn't seem to mind. quite the opposite, actually.

after finishing the story, octavia poures herself another drink and empties the first bottle of vodka. she puts the bottle down and her eyes suddenly find clarke's.

'oh no.' lexa hears clarke sigh next to her and she frowns.

'let's play spin the bottle!' octavia says way louder than necessary, and clarke groans.

lincoln agrees and lexa wants to laugh at him, but she doesn't.

'lexa is totally up to it too, right lexa?'

'i never actually played spin the bottle before.' she says, a bit embarrassed.

octavia looks at her like she's from another planet and she shifts uncomfortably before she feels clarke's hand on her tight. 'it's simple.' she says. 'if bottle cap lands on you, you choose whether you want a truth or dare. the person on the other side of the bottle gives you a challenge or a question based on your choice.'

lexa nods her head, thankful it was nothing complicated. the buzz in her head makes it a bit hard to concentrate.

(she can concentrate on clarke's lips, but not the sounds they make, so she is not really sure what the buzz is from.)

octavia spins and it lands on clarke and lincoln.

ten minutes later, she learns clarke is bisexual, her most embarrassing moment was when she caught her parents having sex, she can make the robot dance way hotter than it should be and she is really, really bad at gymnastics. she almost spills her drinks when clarke attempts to do the roll and ends up knocking out three more piles of books. she blames it on alcohol and the fact lexa has way more books then she should have. everyone agrees and lexa pouts.

clarke kisses her cheek.

it's worth it.

in exchange, she tells them her biggest regret is not pursing a waitress career and everyone looks at her strangely except clarke who laughs so its worth it, though it's not true. she doesn't say her biggest regret is never learning how to fight so she can defend herself from bullies, but she thinks that perhaps one day she might. she proves she can do five push ups standing on just one arm and they find out she's gay and that she can quote way too many books.

when the bottle lands on clarke and octavia, octavia chooses dare and gives clarke a pointed look. clarke rolls her eyes. 'make out with lincoln.' she says and octavia grins, not hesitating for a second. lincoln doesn't seem to protest at all and lexa looks away.

clarke is looking at her with her pupils completely black.

she swallows, her whole body suddenly alert.

clarke leans forward and lexa is pretty sure everyone can sure the sound of her heart beating.

clarke looks away and takes the bottle from the table, pointing it at lexa.

'truth or dare?' she asks in almost a whisper, and when she says 'dare', she barely recognizes her own voice.

clarke smirks.

'take me out on a date.'

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _so, we are nearing the end. probably two more chapters and I'll wrap it up. this story is supposed to be about lexa's growth, and she is doing that quite well. but the more i write, the more ideas i get. so do tell me what you think :)_


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